


Objective IRON KNIGHT

by dracusfyre



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Meet-Cute, Pining, Temporary Amnesia, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29867454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: While at a SHIELD holiday party, Bucky meets a mysterious but charming stranger. When he sees him again at a coffee shop a few weeks later, Bucky is excited by the chance to get to know him better without realizing that neither encounter was the accident that this Anton made them out to be...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 45
Kudos: 106
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV, WI Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sagana_Rojana_Olt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagana_Rojana_Olt/gifts).



“Hey, handsome. What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“What?” Startled out of his thoughts, Bucky looked around and saw a man standing slightly behind him, looking around his shoulder at the rest of the room. He followed the man’s gaze out the crowd of his coworkers and said, “Oh, I'm at a work party.” The he did a double take at the stranger when a thought occurred to him. “Wait, you aren’t here with SHIELD?”

The man shrugged. He was dressed in a suit, a very nice suit, to Bucky's admittedly inexpert eye, which was probably why he was able to sneak in. His hair was dark and slightly tousled, like it had been combed earlier in the day but the man had run his hands through it, and he was wearing a pair of very lightly tinted sunglasses even though it was dark outside. He was also carrying an almost overflowing plate of food that was disappearing at a respectable rate. “I was in the building for another conference,” the man said and gestured to his plate. “I saw who was catering this gig and decided to crash the party.”

“You only came for the food?” Bucky said and had to laugh. “Is it worth it?” He tilted his head towards the crowd. “They aren’t going to be very amused if they catch you.”

“Well,” the man said, eyeing Bucky up and down with clear appreciation, “it is now.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin and held out his hand. “My name is Anton.”

“Bucky,” Bucky said as he shook the hand. “You really shouldn’t be here, though,” he felt like he had to add. Everyone had been searched pretty thoroughly before being allowed into the ballroom and they hadn’t even been able to bring in their cellphones as a security precaution. The fact that someone was even _able_ to crash the party was going to get someone fired.

“Why do you think I’m hiding behind you?” Anton said, corner of his mouth quirking. “I was planning to grab my ill-gotten goods and go but then I saw you standing over here by yourself, looking all sexy and stoic in that suit.”

“Oh, is that right?” Bucky half turned so he could get a better look at Anton, who was looking at him over his sunglasses with humor in his eyes. His suit was a three-piece affair, black on black, which contrasted very effectively against the man’s warm skin tone and silver watch and showed off broad shoulders and a trim waist. After he was done looking, he met Anton’s eyes and smiled. “And then what was your plan?”

“Oh, saying hello was the extent of my plan,” Anton said. “Now I’m just winging it. How am I doing?”

“Well, you admitted that you’re committing a crime to someone who works for a law enforcement organization,” Bucky said. “So as plans go, perhaps maybe you should have come up with a better story.”

“True. Unless the whole rule-breaking thing does it for you?” Anton asked. He was almost done with his plate and eyeing the food tables as if contemplating a second run. “Because if so, you could be my accomplice and get me a drink from the open bar. The salmon pinwheels were very salty.”

Bucky pretended to think, as if this wasn’t the most entertainment he’d had all day. “Well, breaking rules isn’t generally my thing, but I like your style,” he said after a moment. “It was pretty ballsy thing to do, sneaking in here.”

Anton’s face brightened. “So you will get me a drink? Will you throw this away while you’re there?”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “Ok, I’ll be right back.”

Bucky got all the way to the bartender before he realized he hadn’t asked Anton what he wanted to drink, but when he started to turn around Rollins came up and threw his arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Hey sport,” he said, and Bucky kept his face carefully blank and suppressed the urge to shrug the man’s arm off. “Who were you talking to? Brock and I were just wondering why you were being such a wallflower all evening.”

“A lady from accounting, I forget her name,” Bucky lied. “I was just about to get her a drink.”

“Oh yeah?” The arm stayed on his shoulder as Rollins studied the drink selection. “Who? I’ve already scoped out all the hot chicks in SHIELD, and the only bangable one in accounting is Sarah or Sally or something.”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “You can talk to someone without wanting to bang them,” he said, and in his mind’s eye he was yanking on the man’s tie until his face bounced off the cheap folding table that was serving as the bar. “Two cabernets, please,” Bucky said to the bartender, needing to keep up the lie though he was sure that Anton, if he was smart, had booked it once Rollins had come over; the thought made Bucky even more irritated since he hadn’t thought to get Anton's number first.

“If you say so,” Rollins said and ordered himself another beer.

Sure enough, once he was able to ditch Rollins, Anton was nowhere to be found. With a sigh, Bucky pitched both glasses into the trash and and gave up on the party to go home. As soon as walked in the door, he ditched his uncomfortable dress shoes and threw his suit jacket over the arm of the couch while a white cat came padding out of his bedroom, twining around his legs and getting cat hairs all over his nicest pair of pants. “Hey, Alpine,” Bucky said, scooping her up and setting her on his shoulders so she could shed all over his nice dress shirt, too. “How was your evening? Mine sucked. A cute guy started hitting on me and I didn’t even get his number, and the party was boring as shit.” Alpine meowed in his ear and Bucky reached up to scratch her under her chin. “Yeah, I know. So it’s just me and you again,” he said, sitting down on the couch carefully so he didn’t dislodge her from her perch. “What do you want to watch tonight?”

* * *

When Bucky walked into the briefing room the next morning, he groaned when he saw the image on the screen. “This guy again?”

“Yeah, this guy again,” Hutchinson echoed, rocking back and forth in one of the office chairs ringing the conference table. “He hit one of our facilities last night. Medical lab. Three years of work, gone.”

“Shit.” As Bucky took a seat, he squinted at the screen. Whoever was hitting their facilities was mostly distinctive by how much they didn’t know about him; regular cameras only registered him – if it was a him - as a slight distortion in the air as he passed in front of the camera. The tech analysis department theorized that he was wearing a suit using retroreflective technology, which, if true, would be impressive, since SHIELD was the one that pioneered that tech and couldn’t make it work on things any smaller than a car. They’d started putting up infrared cameras on their facilities to see if they could catch him on those, but so far the guy seemed to know where they were because he’d managed to avoid or take out every single one of them.

“Any new theories from the eggheads?”

One of the eggheads in question, an analyst from the domestic threats department, glanced up from where she was reviewing something on a laptop. “New information, yes,” she said. “New conclusions? No.”

Rollins and Rumlow came in last, of course, loud and obnoxious, and though the analyst tried to get everyone to stop talking so she could start the brief, Rumlow was ignoring her. As the team lead, everyone was taking his cue and they were talking about some of the stupidest shit so eventually Bucky lost his temper and hit his fist against the briefing table, startling everyone into silence. “Go ahead, ma’am,” he said with a polite smile, and they were finally able to start.

Her first slide was a forensic report from the lab, showing how the intruder had gotten in and mapping his progress through the facility. There were no other traces of him, of course, because the suit covered him from head to foot, but they had taken fingerprints and samples at the scene just to be sure. The she moved to a map of facilities that this unsub was suspected of infiltrating or destroying. Bucky studied the map, but couldn’t perceive a pattern, no cluster or even repeated cities. Whoever it was, he really got around, hitting facilities on both coasts and everywhere in between.

“Based on his activity, we have a list of facilities we think he might hit next,” she finished. “We’ve also been trying to track down who might have the technology to make a suit like this, but so far everyone has checked out.”

“You know who could have built this,” said another member of SHIELD’s strike force. Bucky thought his name might be Garcia, but since he wasn’t on Bucky’s squad he couldn’t be sure. “St-ow,” the man said, and when Bucky looked back he was rubbing his shoulder and glaring at Rumlow. "Dick," he muttered.

“Sorry for the interruption, ma’am,” Rumlow said, as if he hadn’t been interrupting her the whole brief. “So what do the brass want us to do? If we don’t know who it is or where he might go next?”

“This brief was just for your situational awareness since the break-in occurred last night,” the analyst said, and clicked to the next slide. “ _This_ is your next mission.”

That mission turned out to be simple, flying out to West Virginia and rounding up a small group of suspected domestic terrorists. When they were all cuffed and awaiting transport, Bucky went down the row and showed them a series of pictures. “Have you seen this woman?” he asked one of them, and the suspect shook his head. “She might also look like this or this,” he said, showing a picture of the same woman but with different hair styles. The suspect shook his head again. “How about this man?” Bucky tried again, but this time the suspect didn’t even look up so Bucky sighed and stood.

“Give ‘em time,” Hutchinson said, leaning against the wall, rifle slung across his chest. “I don’t think it’s quite sunk in for them yet how much trouble they’re in.”

“I think they’ve probably changed their look again,” Bucky said. He took off his ballistic goggles and mask and scowled down at the pictures. They had been looking for these same fugitives for so long that Bucky could probably recognize them in his sleep, the subtle smirk in the woman’s brown eyes and the man’s perpetual look of _I’m too old for this shit._ “Or are using nanomasks. If I were them I’d use nanomasks.”

Hutchinson shrugged. “They can’t run forever,” he said, which seemed like a stupid thing to say, because they’d been running quite successfully so far, but if Bucky challenged every stupid thing his teammates said he would never get anything done. And he’d probably be assassinated in the locker room.

“Wheels up in ten,” he said instead, and tucked the photos of objectives BLACK WIDOW and ROGUE ARCHER back in their respective folders.


	2. Chapter 2

A few weeks later, Bucky was standing in line at his favorite coffee shop when he did a double take. Anton was sitting at a table by the window, reading something on a tablet while a to-go cup of coffee steamed in front of him. For the rest of his time in line, Bucky debated going over there to say hello – was it weird and creepy that Anton had showed up again, or serendipitous? – before he realized he had to do it or he’d never be able to look Alpine in the eye again, given how much he’d complained about not getting Anton’s phone number at the holiday party.

“Anton?” Bucky asked hesitantly as he came over to the table, and Anton’s look of welcome as he recognized Bucky made all of the agonizing worth it.

“Bucky!” Anton said, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Holy shit, what a surprise.” He made a show of studying Bucky, tilting his head to one side and another. “Well, I’ll be. You’re even more good-looking in the daytime.”

Bucky could say the same; the winter sunlight was glinting in Anton’s dark hair and turning his brown eyes into the rich umber of good whiskey. “It’s crazy that I ran across you here, I thought I’d never see you again,” Bucky admitted. “I was so mad at myself that I didn’t get your number.”

“Yeah, I was planning to ask you for yours after enough flirting that it didn’t seem too pushy, but then I saw you talking to your coworker so I decided to book it,” Anton said apologetically.

“Smart.” Bucky paused for a moment then said, “Should we flirt again more now before we exchange phone numbers, or just get it out of the way?”

“Now is good,” Anton’s said with a laugh and pulled out his phone.

“332,” Bucky echoed as he typed Anton’s number in. “That’s not local, is it?”

“No, it’s a New York number,” Anton said, putting his own phone away after putting Bucky’s number in. “That’s where I usually work, but for the foreseeable future I’ll be down here working for those guys,” he explained, pointing out the window of the coffee shop where the top of the Pentagon was just visible over the overpasses leading into DC.

“Foreseeable future, eh? I can work with that,” Bucky said. “I’m over there,” he said, where the Triskelion was being still being rebuilt. The battle of the Potomac had been two years ago, but they still weren’t done fixing all of the damage from the crashed helicarriers.

“Oh, shit, the party I crashed was _theirs?_ ” Anton looked chagrined. “I didn’t realize. You’re right, I probably would still be in a holding cell if they’d caught me.”

“Instead, I get to interrogate you right here,” Bucky said with a grin. “If you’ve got the time?”

“I’ve got a minute. Let me see if I remember how first dates go,” Anton said, sitting back in his chair and scratching his jaw. “It’s been a while since I did one of these. I’m an engineer, a Gemini, cat person, night person, and my favorite food is Mexican.”

“First date speed run, I like it. My job is classified, I’m a Pisces, I have a cat, I’m a morning person, and my favorite food is also Mexican.”

“Morning person,” Anton repeated mournfully. “This will never work out.”

“I disagree,” Bucky said. “With a morning person your coffee is already ready and there’s always the possibility of breakfast in bed.”

“You make an excellent case. Alright, you’ve convinced me, let’s do this,” Anton said with a brisk nod. “Unfortunately, I have to get to work right now, but you should call me.”

“Of course,” Bucky said. He started to stand when Anton did, but then realized if he did, Anton would have to get past him somehow to leave the crowded coffee shop, which would make things awkward because then Bucky wouldn’t know if he should give him a hug, a kiss, or a handshake. “Have a good day,” he called out to Anton’s back, feeling less stupid for yelling out across the coffee shop when Anton turned around and saluted him with the hand holding his coffee. “Fuck, yeah,” he said to himself, and wished he had someone other than Alpine to tell the good news to.

* * *

As Tony left the coffee shop, making sure that Bucky couldn’t see him from any of the glass windows, he opened up his burner phone and sent a text message: _second contact. So far so good._

 _Any update?_ Came back a few moments later.

Tony sighed. _Still nothing._

_Give it time._

“It’s been two years,” Tony muttered. “I’ve given it a lot of goddamn time.” _I know,_ he wrote back, then turned off the phone and took the battery out before putting it in his pocket.

* * *

Bucky was in such a good mood for the rest of the day that his coworkers noticed and even commented on it, though that was probably on Bucky since he’d given his target at the range a smiley face after he’d passed the firearms qualification.

“Well look at this bastard’s shit-eating grin,” Rollins said, leaning against Bucky’s lane divider. “Did you get laid last night?”

“None of your fucking business, Rollins,” Bucky said cheerfully as he cleared his pistol and took the magazine out. “Why, is that why you are always so goddamn grumpy?”

Rollins sneered while the rest of the team laughed at Bucky’s dig. “Very funny, Barnes.”

“You walked into that one, Jack,” Rumlow said, coming up behind him and clapping a hand on his back. “Wrap it up everyone, we’ve got another briefing in 20.”

Bucky was one of the first ones into the briefing room this time, so he snagged a corner in the back against a wall; for reasons he tried not to think about too much, it made him nervous when the rest of his team was sitting behind him where he couldn’t see them. The analyst was the last to show and fumbled a bit to get the presentation started, not helped by the way the team elbowed each other and snickered at how flustered he was. Bucky scowled and rolled his eyes because they could really be such assholes, but eventually the man got everything working and started the brief.

“Forensics on the UNSUB from the medical lab came back with no useful information,” the analyst said, glancing up at where the slide said FINGERPRINTS: NONE, DNA: NONE, HAIR/FIBER/FOOTPRINTS: NONE. “The only evidence they were ever there is from the faint traces on the security cams and some items that the employees on site said that had probably been moved but couldn’t be sure.”

“Items? Like what?” Bucky asked.

“I’m not sure, but I can follow up on that if you think it’s important,” the analyst said. “The interviewers on the scene didn’t think the items were important enough to include in the report.”

Rumlow half turned in his chair to look at Bucky. “You got an idea?” he asked sharply, eyes so intent that Bucky was taken aback.

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, just curious,” he said defensively. Rumlow eyed him for another moment before turning back around. Bucky met Hutchinson’s eyes with a _what the fuck_ look, but Hutchinson just shrugged and turned back to the presentation.

The next slide was on ARCHER and WIDOW, a couple of intel tips that were being investigated, one suggesting that the team was in Juarez, Mexico looking for weapons and another that they were in Georgia for reasons unknown. “A STRIKE team out of LA hit what they think was a safe house out in the desert,” the analyst said, clicking to a new slide where there were photos of a glorified shanty filled with weapons and computer cables but no electronics. “They were able to clear out before our agents got there but we don’t know if they left hours or days before. As a result, we’ve recommended increased opsec in case there is a leak or SHIELD has been compromised.”

Harris, another member of Bucky’s team, groaned and let his head fall back against his chair. “Please, God, don’t tell the brass that. We don’t need another round of security investigations, that will be the third one in two years.”

Bucky wanted to roll his eyes again at that but kept a blank face. Considering that a leak in SHIELD is what led to the catastrophic destruction of the helicarriers, the collapse of SHIELD headquarters and the loss of Bucky’s goddamn _arm_ , Bucky was always going to come down on the side of extra caution.

“It would be a pain in the ass, but that’s above my paygrade,” the analyst said. “We just call them like we see them.” The next slides were on a couple of other outstanding objectives, a couple of homegrown terrorists and a human trafficker, but nothing actionable yet. As the analyst wrapped up the brief and left, Rumlow clapped his hands together and said, “Alright, that’s it for the day. You chuckleheads get out of here and be ready for PFT tomorrow, 0500.” Everyone groaned and complained at that as they left, but as Bucky tried to walk out Rumlow caught his arm.

“Hey, I know Rollins was giving you a hard time earlier, but just as a reminder, if you intend to have close and continuing contact with someone you gotta report it,” Rumlow said. “Unless you are planning to just hit it and quit it. Hazards of the job.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky said. Rumlow looked at him like he expected Bucky to say more, but Bucky just raised an eyebrow. “Was that it?”

Rumlow shoved him towards the door. “Get out of here, dickwad.”

On the way out of the building, Bucky collected his phone from the security lockers and grinned when he saw that he already had texts from Anton.

_I know it’s not cool to text the same day you get someone’s number so pretend that it’s been a few days already._

_If you like mex food and I like mex food let’s do a taco tuesday_

_or a flauta friday_

_or a mole monday_

_tbh is there a day that’s not good for mex food?_

_Crap now I’m hungry_

Bucky was so busy reading and rereading his text messages that he almost got hit by a car in the parking lot. With an apology wave, Bucky made his way to his motorcycle and leaned against it to text back. _New phone who dis?_ He asked, and laughed when he saw the dots dance, then stop, then dance again. _Just kidding,_ he wrote before Anton could take it the wrong way. _The answer is no, there’s no bad day to have mexican food. I’m free tomorrow night._

 _But there’s not a dish that starts with W_ :/ Anton wrote back, and Bucky laughed.

 _Huevos sort of sounds like it starts with a W._ _Huevos Wednesday._ Bucky dug out his keys and shrugged on his motorcycle jacket, then straddled his bike and was about to put on his helmet when he felt his phone buzz.

_That’s ok then. Tomorrow night it is. As long as I don’t **have** to have huevos._

_Deal._

* * *

“See, this is how I know that you are serious about Mexican food,” Bucky said as he slid into the booth across from Anton. “You agree that this is the best Mexican food inside the beltway.”

“So you’ve heard of it before?” Anton asked, greeting Bucky with a grin.

“Of course, this is my favorite restaurant.”

“Good. It was a test,” Anton said seriously. “If you hadn’t heard of it, I would have questioned your judgement.” The restaurant in question was a hole in the wall joint located in an unassuming strip mall, but the menu was only in Spanish and Bucky and Anton were the only norteamericanos in sight, probably because there was a more stereotypical Mexican restaurant just down the road that had a giant cactus and sombrero on its sign. Bucky couldn’t remember the first time he’d come here, but it had been a Friday night tradition to get tacos and watch soccer for at least a year now.

When the server came over, Bucky didn’t even need to open the menu to order, and may have been showing off a little to Anton when he ordered in Spanish. “What are you getting?” he asked, switching back to English. But with a mischievous glint in his eye, Anton ordered in Spanish as well, handing the server their menus and thanking him. “Oh, is that how it is?” Bucky asked. “How many languages do you speak?”

“Five,” Anton said. “English, Spanish, French, Russian, and Chinese. You?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said with a shrug. “I, uh, haven’t found one I didn’t know yet.”

Anton raised an eyebrow. “Right. Humble much?” he teased. “How do you forget how many languages you know? Believe me, I probably have lingering trauma over learning Chinese grammar.”

“Well…” It was probably better just to get this conversation over with, Bucky knew, so with a brief glance around to make sure no one was watching them, he tugged off his gloves. “I had an accident a few years ago,” he said quietly as Anton stared at his metal hand. “It fucked with a lot of my memories, and I lost an arm. This is a high tech, top secret experimental prosthetic.”

“I was wondering about that,” Anton said as Bucky put the gloves back on. “I noticed you were wearing gloves at the party and was wondering if it was part of your Bond, James Bond look you had going on.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to flash it around, so I wear gloves a lot,” Bucky said wryly.

Anton’s mouth quirked but his eyes were serious. “What happened?”

“From what I understand, I was inside one of the helicarriers when it fell,” Bucky said, fidgeting with his silverware. “By the time they fished me out, I had brain hypoxia from being underwater for so long. That’s why my memory is so bad.”

“Holy shit,” Anton said. His hand came down to rest on Bucky’s, stilling his nervous fiddling. “I’m so sorry that happened, that must have been awful.”

“Yeah.” Bucky made a face, not wanting to dwell on the months of being in the hospital under observation, then the months of having to report to therapy daily before finally being cleared for work again. The prosthetic arm had actually been the easiest part; his doctors told him they had been able to surgically implant it while he was in a medically induced coma so that his recovery time would be shorter. “But that was years ago, so it doesn’t really bother me much these days.”

“No? You’re not afraid you forgot something or someone important?” Anton asked curiously, then looked chagrined. “I’m sorry, that was rude, I’ve just never met someone with amnesia before.”

“No, it’s ok,” Bucky said, forcing a smile as if that didn’t keep him up at night sometimes. “My therapist came to my apartment when I was released from the hospital and helped me go through all my personal files and pictures. My family died a while ago, and there was no evidence that I was in a relationship or anything. I mean, no one ever visited the hospital, either, so that was, you know...a big clue.” Bucky tried to sound joking about it, but the stricken look in Anton’s eyes made his smile falter.

“I’m sorry,” Anton said again, and his hand tightened on Bucky’s.

Bucky put his hand on top of Anton’s, touched at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s ok. Like I said, it was years ago.”

Anton nodded, thankfully willing to drop it. This conversation was always a drag, which is why Bucky was always reluctant to have it with potential dates. “Wait,” Anton said suddenly. “Does the memory thing mean you don’t have any embarrassing stories? That’s awful! What are we going to talk about? Our _jobs_?”

“It just means you get to tell me all of your embarrassing stories,” Bucky pointed out. “I’m boring as shit. I just work and go home to my cat. You’re the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years.”

Anton eyed him skeptically, lingering on his broad shoulders and his biceps, and Bucky felt his face get hot at the frank appreciation in Anton’s eyes. “Somehow I have a hard time believing that,” he said. “But I’ll still tell you about this one time I almost set my college dorm on fire.”


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of weeks later, Bucky stumbled into his apartment, eyes dry and brain fizzy with exhaustion. As he went in the door, he just dropped everything on the closest horizontal surface and went straight for the shower. He was so tired that he kept wanting to lean against the shower walls, eyes drifting shut in the heat of the spray. He barely mustered the energy to brush his hair and teeth, happy to get the dry, gritty taste of a long mission off his tongue, then spent five minutes wondering why Alpine hadn’t jumped into bed yet before remembering with dismay that she was staying with the neighbors while he was on his mission.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, knowing he was being ridiculous when he felt his throat get tight at the realization that he was all alone. Exhaustion, the adrenaline crash, and disappointment at a failed mission was making him feel brittle. It didn’t help that Anton had only texted him once while he was gone, wishing him good luck; logically, it was stupid to have hoped for more, because he had told Anton that he was going away for a while and couldn’t check his phone, but that didn’t make him feel any better. He rolled over and buried his face into the pillow, trying to will the hot press of tears away, but when he closed his eyes all he could see was the disappointment and disgust on the faces of his team on the flight home. The thick, angry silence on the ride back had said everything; Bucky knew they blamed him for letting the UNSUB get away and he deserved it.

The blue blaze of fire as the UNSUB arced away through the sky also filled his thoughts, playing on repeat. He didn’t know how something he’d never seen before could seem so familiar, but as soon as it happened Bucky had felt a lightness in his chest like a laugh trying to get out, and it had been so surprising that he had just watched instead of trying to stop him. He had just stared until Rumlow came up behind him and shoved him so hard that Bucky had stumbled.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” Rumlow had shouted, getting in his face. “You got more brain damage than usual? You let him get away!”

Bucky looked up at where the blaze was barely visible against the night sky. “What, you wanted me to follow him?” He said sarcastically, and at that Rumlow had hit him in the face with his rifle, sending Bucky’s head snapping back.

“Does your gun not work, Barnes?” Rumlow said over the ringing in his ears. “I didn’t hear no fucking gunshots, or was the giant ball of fire not enough of a target for you?”

“It happened too fast,” Bucky muttered sourly, well aware the Rumlow was right. He’d had a shot and he didn’t take it, too busy staring at the receding blaze like a kid watching a fireworks show. “No one else got off a shot either.” Which was true, but no one stood up for him because that’s not how the STRIKE team worked, so Rumlow had spent the next five minutes cursing him up one side and down the other before ordering everyone onto the jet.

Groaning, Bucky tried to think of something else to distract him long enough to get to sleep, then jumped when a loud _brrzzzzt_ snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Reaching out to his phone, he flipped it over to see that Anton had texted him.

 _Let me know when you are back in town,_ Anton wrote. _I miss you._

That made Bucky smile, and he felt something in him relax. _Just got in,_ he wrote back. _I miss you too._

_How did it go?_

_Ugh. Sucked._

_Sorry :(_

_It’s fine. I’m exhausted tho. Talk to you in the morning?_

_Sounds good. Glad you got back safe. Sleep tight._

And to Bucky’s surprise, he did.

* * *

“That was too fucking close, Tony,” Natasha snapped as soon as she picked up the phone.

Tony winced. “I know, but I was almost done,” Tony said. “There’s only so many places they can be holding Steve, and now we’ve ruled out this one, so it was worth the risk.”

“One of these days you’re going to find out the hard way where he’s at,” Natasha said. “Because they are going to catch you and throw you in next to him, and then we will be down yet another man. They are already getting too close to me and Clint.”

Tony didn’t have a response to that, so he just exhaled, remembering the way Bucky had turned his face up to watch him leave instead of shooting at him. It had felt almost like Bucky was remembering him and it had been physically painful to leave him behind. _Again_.

“How are things with Bucky?” Natasha asked, apparently psychic.

Tony looked down at his phone where Bucky had written _I miss you too._ “Good, I guess. Hard. But he seems happy, so...I guess it could be worse. You know.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said, voice softening. “I know this is difficult.”

“Yeah.” Tony hung his head and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Look I’ll talk to you later, I need to sleep.”

“Ok. Bye Tony.”

After Natasha hung up, Tony took the phone apart and hid the pieces before falling into bed, staring into the darkness of his room for far too long before finally falling asleep.

* * *

“This seems like a very stereotypical DC date,” Bucky commented a few days later, taking a sip of his coffee and staring across the huge expanse of lawn and trees that was the National Mall. The sun was low in the sky, turning everything the beautiful pale gold of early dusk. There were lots of people out on the unseasonably warm evening, glad to get a break from the relentless clouds and cold of February. They had just passed the statues of the Korean War memorial and the Washington Monument was looming large in front of them, the reflecting pool beside them already turning the same deep blue of the sky.

“You’d think so, but I’ve never actually just walked around the National Mall,” Anton said. “Funny how you aren’t always in the mood to play tourist in the cities where you live.”

“That’s true,” Bucky reflected. “I know I don’t remember seeing any of these memorials before, but maybe that’s because of the brain damage.”

“I don’t think many people know just how many monuments are on the Mall,” Anton said. He stopped in front of a huge oval of granite columns with a burbling fountain in the middle. “And not all monuments are created equal,” he added. “Compare this one to the one we just looked at, for example. One was a simple, very classic design. Impactful. This…this is a lot of granite.”

“Which one is this?” Bucky asked, craning his head to look for a sign or plaque.

“World War II.” Each column around the side of the oval had a huge wreath on it and the name of a state, and one side was devoted to the Pacific theater and the other to the Atlantic. There were quotes and bas reliefs and stars and eventually Bucky had to admit that maybe it was a bit over the top. In the center of the fountain that took up the middle of the monument was something that had been covered up by tarps, plywood, and metal scaffolding, with a sign on it that said “under construction.” “What was that?” Bucky asked, pointing at it.

“That is – or was – a statue for Captain America.” Anton’s voice sounded strange when he said that; when Bucky glanced over, he saw Anton staring at it, jaw tight. 

“I feel like there’s a story there,” Bucky said, tilting his head to study Anton curiously.

“It got damaged in a protest, a few years back,” Anton said, turning away. “Guess they decided not to repair it and haven’t figured out what to put there instead.”

They wandered around the monument for a few minutes, sipping on their coffee, until Bucky’s attention was caught by a medium sized plaque that said, “Dedicated to the men of the Howling Commandos,” and in big letters underneath it said, “To James B. Barnes, 1917 – 1944, the only Howling Commando to give his life in battle.” Bucky ran his fingers over the words and said, “Huh, this guy’s name is the same as mine.”

“Yeah?” Anton came over and looked at the plaque as well. “How about that,” he commented. “Think it was luck or are your parents history buffs?”

“Eh, James and Barnes are both pretty common names,” Bucky said. “Probably doesn’t have the same middle name, this B is probably Benjamin or something.” He glanced up to see Anton watching him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Anton said after a moment. “Just admiring the view.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed. He switched his coffee to his left hand so he could reach out for Anton’s with his right. “Let’s keep going. Think we can make it all the way to the Capitol Building? Before it gets too late?”

“Eh, the Capitol Building is cool, but the Library of Congress is where it’s at,” Anton said, tugging Bucky along at a brisk pace. They did manage to make it out to the Library of Congress and sat on its marble steps to finish watching the sun go down before catching a cab on Independence Ave back to Bucky’s neighborhood.

As the cab pulled up to his apartment building, he turned to Anton and asked, “Would you like to come upstairs for a drink? You could meet my cat.”

As soon as the words left his mouth Bucky winced, realizing how silly it sounded. But instead of making fun of him, Anton only said, “Of course,” looking serious and not like it was weird at all that Bucky would be asking him to meet his cat. “I can’t believe we’re already at the ‘meet the family’ stage of dating.”

“Well, I trust her taste, so if she likes you, you’re probably good people,” Bucky said, climbing out of the car.

* * *

As Tony followed Bucky up the stairs, he scanned the building for cameras and watchers; given everything, there was no way Bucky’s home wasn’t under surveillance. Natasha would probably rip him a new one for this, but Tony couldn’t help himself. He missed his home. He did make sure that the cameras never had a good look at his face, though, grateful for his baseball hat.

As soon as Bucky’s door opened, Alpine came running, making her welcome home chirrup. She rubbed against Bucky’s legs, but as Tony stooped and offered his hand she came over to investigate. “Hey there, sweetheart,” Tony murmured as Alpine delicately sniffed his hand then rubbed her head against it. Tony scooped her up against his chest and scratched under her chin as she purred. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed her as well until she had come out running to greet them.

“She likes you,” Bucky said with delight, running a hand over the tail that was thwapping happily against Tony’s arm.

“As well she should,” Tony said as Alpine rubbed her face against his cheek. _I was with you when you adopted her._ “I’m a likeable guy.”

“Do you have a cat?” Bucky asked as he went around to turn on the lights, hastily tossing some stuff onto the chair in the corner to clean off the couch.

“I used to,” Tony said lightly, looking around the apartment like it was the first time he’d seen it to avoid meeting Bucky’s eyes. “But, uh, I lost her in the divorce, so to speak.”

“That’s tough,” Bucky said sympathetically, and Tony just nodded. “I, um, I have some beer, if you want to have a drink?”

Tony glanced down at Alpine who had settled in his arms like she didn’t have any intention of leaving anytime soon. “Sure,” he said. “I’d love to.” He managed to settle onto the couch without disturbing Alpine, whose eyes had closed into slits and her sides were moving like bellows as she purred. Bucky handed him a beer - he still had the same taste in beer, Tony noted, even if it was a new brand - and Bucky sat down on the couch next to Tony. He was close enough to be an invitation but not so close as to be pushy, and Tony had to hide a smile. Being a gentleman was apparently a habit too deep for even Hydra to dig out. He scooted a little closer and leaned against Bucky’s side, toeing off his shoes to curl his legs underneath him.

It was a stupid thing to get sad about, but as Bucky turned on the TV and scrolled through Netflix queue, talking about this movie or that show, Tony felt his throat close up at all the shows they had once watched together that had new seasons that Bucky had watched without him. “This one is one of my favorites,” Bucky said, stopping on a movie that they had seen in the theaters when it came out years ago. Tony had rented out the whole theater for Bucky’s birthday so they could neck in the back but Bucky had ended up getting too interested in the plot; Tony had teased him about it later and then Bucky had made it up to him in a big way once they got home.

“Sounds great,” Tony said, forcing a smile. “I don’t know that I’ve seen it.”

He made it most of the way through the movie and had finished his beer, turning down a second one, when he eased Alpine into Bucky’s lap and asked for the bathroom. Bucky pointed down the hallway, which Tony already knew, of course, and paused the movie. 

Tony closed the door behind him and when he was done peeing, he used the long, loud noisy flushing of the toilet to quickly search the cabinet over the sink. As he suspected, there were a handful of medicine bottles in there; he scanned the labels and noticed they were all plausible, given what Bucky knew about his medical history - NSAIDS for inflammation, pain relievers, anti-clotting medication, all standard for a medical implant. Unnecessary, but plausible. He turned on the sink and took a single pill from each bottle for Natasha to test; if these pills were what the labels said they were, Tony would eat his hat.

He went back out and watched the rest of the movie, though his thoughts were far away. Judging from the way Bucky kept stealing glances at him, he could tell, and he turned off the movie as soon as the credits started. “Getting tired?” he asked, and Tony nodded.

“Long day,” Tony offered, though it wasn't so much long as emotionally grueling. “And I got another long day tomorrow.” As he reluctantly pushed himself off the couch, Bucky scooped Alpine up and stood as well, setting her on the floor where she swished her tail at them disapprovingly.

“You could, uh, stay, if you want to,” Bucky said shyly, and Tony had to use every ounce of self-control to make sure his face only looked regretful and not like his heart was breaking in two. 

“I would love that,” Tony said sincerely, “but I got out of a, um, long term relationship not too long ago, and I would like to take it slow. If that’s ok,” he added hurriedly when Bucky’s face fell.

“Of course, it’s ok,” Bucky said. “I’m just sorry that happened. You could still stay, if you wanted to. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Not tonight,” Tony said after a moment of hesitation, offering Bucky an apologetic smile. “Next time, maybe. I’ll be sure to bring my toothbrush.” 

“Sounds good. Can I still give you a good night kiss?”

Tony was strong, but not _that_ strong. “Yes, please,” he said, and he tilted his head up as Bucky stepped closer. Bucky was gentle and sweet as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to Tony’s, mouth sliding leisurely against Tony’s as if he wanted to take his time and enjoy him. Tony’s hands came up to Bucky’s chest as Bucky put his hands on Tony’s waist, leaning into the kiss. Tony couldn’t help comparing it to their _first_ first kiss, which had been full of adrenaline and exhilaration after a firefight, Bucky smelling of the cordite smell of gunpowder instead of cologne and craft beer. Right now, Bucky tasted of home, body warm under Tony’s hands, and suddenly Tony was so lonely that he made an involuntary sound in his chest.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asked with concern, pulling away. “Was that too much?”

Tony rested his head against Bucky’s collarbone, swallowing back another sound of distress. _He still didn’t remember._ Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and when he lifted his head to look at Bucky he made sure his expression was rueful. “It’s been a long time since my last kiss,” he said truthfully. “And that was a very good kiss.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth tipped up and he pressed another kiss to Tony’s mouth. “Thank you.” He kissed him one more time as if he couldn’t help himself, then stepped away. “I should let you go before I try to talk you into staying again,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets as if to keep them from temptation. “Let me know when you get home?”

“I will,” Tony promised, and left before he could change his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

_Have a good day at work!_ Bucky wrote to Anton before he tucked his phone into the locker at work, barely suppressing the urge to whistle as he went through security and made his way down to the level with the STRIKE offices and locker rooms. It was nice to have someone to say good morning and good night to; it gave Bucky something to look forward to each day besides going home to Alpine. They still hadn’t spent the night together yet, but they’d been on a few more dates together since Anton had come to his apartment and each time the goodbyes had been longer and more difficult, the kisses hungrier. Their last date night had left Bucky so dazed that he had actually gotten lost on the way home, too busy thinking about Anton’s mouth to pay attention to the exits on the highway.

Bucky was logging onto his computer to check his email and happily remembering how handsy Anton got last night when Rollins appeared beside his desk. “Briefing today,” he reminded Bucky, who nodded.

“0930, right?” Rollins nodded and moved down the hall to check on everyone else. At 0915, Bucky went down to the conference room and got his usual chair, staring absently out the window at the parking lot and the Pentagon beyond it, wondering what Anton was doing right now. It occurred to him that if Anton was working at the Pentagon he probably had a classified email account, which meant that Bucky could contact him while he was at work. The prospect of not having to wait all day to talk to Anton made Bucky’s spirits brighten, undimmed even by the STRIKE team’s usual macho bullshit as they filed into the conference room a few minutes late.

The first few slides were updates on existing objectives, and Bucky’s attention was starting to wander back to the view outside the window until he saw something new. _OBJECTIVE IRON KNIGHT,_ the new slide said. “The UNSUB from a few weeks ago, the infiltration of the medical facility, has been given the objective name IRON KNIGHT,” the briefer said. “And after reviewing some new evidence from the NSA, we are assessing that IRON KNIGHT is likely working with WIDOW and ARCHER.” 

Bucky tilted his head and studied the map of all the SHIELD locations targeted by WIDOW and ARCHER, marked in red, along with the locations marked in yellow for IRON KNIGHT. There were no places that had been targeted by both, and they were geographically confined in regions that didn’t overlap, not even a little; in fact, it almost looked like they had been deliberately divided up, so clean were the divisions. And there was really only one good reason why you would divide a set of targets into separate sections. “They’re looking for something,” Bucky said, and the analyst went still.

“We’ve considered that possibility,” she said carefully.

“Any idea what they might be looking for?”

“We don’t know,” the analyst said, but her eyes flickered to Rumlow when she said it. Bucky looked at Rumlow as well but Rumlow’s eyes were on the screen.

“Next slide please,” he said finally, not giving a sign that he even heard Bucky’s question.

The next question was a draft targeting slide for IRON KNIGHT, with ??? in the box for “name” and “appearance.” In fact, most of the slide was marked UNKNOWN or left blank, but there was a section where an artist had apparently done some mock-ups of what IRON KNIGHT’s suit might look like. There were three different versions of it that only differed by color, one that was done in black, one in silver, and one in bright red and gold, which seemed like a bold assessment to make about someone that usually operated with stealth.

“So you think the KNIGHT’s suit is hard, not a soft suit made out of nanomask material?” Bucky asked as he studied the artist’s renditions.

“Well, since you so kindly let us get a good look at him as he flew away,” Rumlow said sarcastically, “we know that his suit is flight capable, which means it’s not a high tech bodysuit.”

“Yes,” the analyst said after a moment of hesitation. “Also, a metallic or hard fiber suit would explain why we haven’t gotten a single forensic trace of the objective at any of the locations.”

“So we have someone wearing a hard metal suit that flies, and is capable of scaling down retroreflective panel technology to a degree we haven’t seen anywhere else,” someone said from across the room. “Boy does that sound like someone we know,” he added sarcastically. Bucky turned to the speaker and opened his mouth to ask a question, but Rumlow cut him off.

“Alright, let’s move on,” Rumlow said, ignoring the speaker. “From now on, don’t bother briefing KNIGHT until you have something actionable.”

“Yes, sir,” the analyst said, and moved on to the next slide.

* * *

Having to store your cellphone all day while you were at work was a pain most of the time, Bucky thought, but it was kind of nice to get a bonanza of text messages and alerts at the end of the day. Like this one from Anton: _I’ve seen your place, so it’s only fair that you come see my place. Wanna come over for dinner this weekend?_

“Hell yeah,” Bucky said aloud as he typed out, _sounds great!_ _Just tell me when._ The rest of the alerts were not nearly so interesting, bills and spam and newsletters. He had paused on the sidewalk leading to the parking lot to clear the notifications, when someone clapped him on the back and said, “Hey, Barnes. Wanna come for a drink with us?”

Bucky glanced up to see about half the team, including Rumlow, looking at him with varying degrees of welcome. Every fiber of his being wanted to say no – experience taught him that it would involve lots of crude humor, hitting on women that for some reason actually gave these guys the time of day, and would almost inevitably end in a bar fight by closing time – but he also knew that it was important to have a good relationship with them so he said, “Sure. Where we going?”

As if he really needed to ask. There were only three bars that the STRIKE team liked to go to, and the only difference was which one they went to first – the biker bar, the military bar, or the one down by the water. Today it was the one down by the water, and Bucky made it through two hours of shots, darts, pool, and shit-talking before he ducked into the restroom to text Anton.

_God, rescue me. I’m socializing with my asshole coworkers._

Anton must have been right next to his phone because the dancing dots appeared immediately. _Sounds awful. How can I help?_

 _Shoot me,_ Bucky wrote back.

 _Sounds like they are the problem, not you. Shoot them,_ Anton wrote back, and Bucky snorted in amusement.

 _I’m outnumbered_.

_I bet you could take them._

_Maybe. But how about you just call me in five minutes and I can fake an emergency with my cat._

_Will do._

Anton’s call came in right as Bucky sat back down at the table, so he got up and walked away from the table to answer it. “Hello, this is James,” he said formally.

“Hello James,” Anton said, just as formally. “There has been an emergency with your cat.”

Bucky had to smother a smile. “Oh, no, what’s going on?” he asked, trying to sound concerned.

“It’s awful, you need to come right away. Terrible. It’s like the Exorcist over here, she’s floating in the air and speaking in tongues. Green slime everywhere. Oh wait, that’s Ghostbusters. Still, you should really come home immediately.”

“Ok, I’ll be right there,” Bucky said, biting his cheeks to keep from laughing. “Thank you for all your help,” he said, unable to keep the wryness out of his voice as he hung up, and heard Anton laughing at him on the other line.

“I’ve got to go,” he said when he got back to the table. “Neighbors says there’s something wrong with my cat, I gotta go home and make sure she’s ok.”

“Man, there’s only one type of pussy that should have you running on demand, and it’s not the kind that shits in a box,” Rollins said, and Bucky spent a second imagining how nice it would be to break a bottle over his head.

“You’re such a catch, Rollins,” Bucky said as he shrugged on his coat. “A real class act. I’m shocked no one has taken you off the market yet.” He dug out his wallet and pulled out a bunch of twenties and tossed them on the table. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Knowing that the team were chronically bad tippers, he also stopped by to give the bartender a twenty on the way out the door, then called Anton back. “You almost made me blow it,” he accused Anton as his phone switched over to the Bluetooth speakers in his motorcycle helmet. “Really? The Exorcist?”

“I had faith in your poker face,” Anton said. “Why were you hanging out with them if they are assholes?”

“Well, they are assholes that I regularly rely on to watch my back, so I try to stay on good terms with them as much as possible.” Bucky cranked up his bike and pulled out of the parking lot, glad to leave the bar behind. 

“Oh, that sounds like a great working environment,” Anton said in his ear. “One eye on the enemy and one eye on your coworkers.”

“I’m used to it, it was the same way in the military,” Bucky said absently, checking his mirrors before he merged onto the highway.

“Yeah? You were in the military?”

“In the Army,” Bucky confirmed.

“I didn’t know that. You remember much about being in the Army?”

“Some.” Inside his helmet Bucky frowned, trying to dig the memories out of the gray fog that was his past. “I’m pretty sure that whoever I worked with back then was a lot better than these guys, because I keep wanting to compare them to someone but I don’t know who.”

“That sounds frustrating,” Anton said sympathetically. “Hey, since you are free and already out and about, want to do dinner tonight? I’ll order pizza or something.”

“Sure,” Bucky said. “That would make my day.” Anton gave him directions to a place in southwest DC then got off the phone to order food while Bucky found a place to park his bike.

“So this is your place, huh?” Bucky said, wandering around Anton’s apartment. It was small and there was so little personality to it, so few personal items that Bucky had to ask, “Did you just recently move in?”

“Hmm?” Anton looked up from where he was cleaning up the kitchen to have clean plates for when the pizza arrived and followed Bucky’s gaze to the empty walls. “Oh, yeah, kinda. This is just a place to stay for now, not where I want to be long term, so I didn’t really see the point of fixing up the place or getting my stuff out of storage.”

“Makes sense. Wait, is this a studio apartment?” Bucky said, poking around and realizing that the only door to the place led to the bathroom and not to the bedroom like he’d assumed.

“Yeah. I don’t need a lot of space,” Anton said with a shrug.

Bucky hesitated. “That long term relationship you were in…were you married? Are you broke? Like, because of a divorce?”

Anton stared at him blankly for a moment, then laughed. To Bucky’s ears it seemed a little forced. “No, no, nothing like that. I promise. I used to have a big, fancy house, but then I realized it was all just…space, you know? Stuff. Not even important stuff.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, resting his elbows on the small table that served as Anton’s dining room. “So where do you sleep?”

Anton gestured to the couch. “That’s a sofa bed. Pretty nice one at that.”

“No TV?”

“On the contrary,” Anton said with a conspiratorial grin. He dried his hands and opened his laptop, then unlocked his phone. A few moments of typing, then he propped his phone up on a shelf behind the couch. A giant projection appeared on the wall across from the couch, surprisingly large and vivid to come from a phone. “I do spend money on some things. Want to find us something to watch?”

Bucky scrolled around on Netflix for a while, somewhat surprised to see that he and Anton had the same taste in movies. “You like this show too?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a sucker for science fiction.”

“Oh, yeah? Me too. I like the ones that are more about exploring and adventures, like Star Trek, than the ones that are dark and grim. Like Blade Runner. Gives me hope for the future,” Bucky said with a self-conscious shrug as he turned on an episode of one of his favorite shows. Anton was quiet, so Bucky glanced up to see him looking at Bucky with fondness. “What?”

“That’s sweet, I didn’t know that. I like watching them so I can make fun of the science.” The buzzer sounded for the pizza, so Anton went down to get it, and then they spent a very pleasant evening watching episodes of cheesy science fiction shows until Bucky found himself dozing. Anton must have noticed because when Bucky woke up he saw Anton looking at him.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling his face get hot, trying to push himself to sit up straight on the couch instead of the practically horizontal position he was in right now.

But Anton put a hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay where he was. “It’s fine. Would you like to bunk over? You can take the bed and I’ll take the couch,” Anton said with a grin.

Bucky tried to huff out a laugh and yawned in the middle of it. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he said. He wasn’t too confident of how well he could ride his bike when he was this tired, and it was cold enough outside that he didn’t really want to force it. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” Anton levered himself off the couch and rummaged through a dresser in the corner, tossing Bucky a shirt and pair of shorts. “These are pretty stretched out, they might fit you.”

“But I’ll have to get up,” Bucky complained, but he got up and went to the bathroom to change. When he came back out, Antonhad the bed unfolded and was rummaging around for blankets and pillows.

“It’s not much,” Anton said, making a face at the paltry collection on the bed. “I didn’t really plan for guests.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said honestly. “I’ve had worse.” But as soon as he laid down, all of the sleepiness from earlier seemed to vanish, mostly because he was suddenly acutely aware of Anton laying right next to him, could feel the bed move and hear the rustling of the sheets as he got comfortable. The desire to scoot closer, to find Anton's mouth with his own and press his body into the bed was a physical ache, making his heart start to race and mouth go dry.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” Bucky said into the darkness, and he heard Anton make a soft huff of amusement.

“I have to be honest, Bucky. If I kiss you right now, I don’t think I could bring myself to stop,” Anton said wryly. "And, as much as I want to, I'm not quite ready to take the next step."

That was a good point, Bucky reflected. “Same probably goes for cuddling, huh?”

“Yeah.”

They lay there in an awkward, heated silence for a few moments until Bucky said, “Should I go? If it’s too hard for me to be here?”

“No,” Anton said quickly, putting a hand on Bucky’s arm. Turning his head, Bucky could see Anton looking at him. “Stay. I mean, if you want to. I like having you here.”

“Okay.” Bucky put a hand on top of Anton’s, then brought it up to his mouth for a quick kiss before letting go. “Sorry, that was cheating.”

“It’s fine,” Anton said, a smile in his voice. “Good night, Bucky. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

“You know you just burned that safe house, right?” Natasha said, sounding more tired than angry. Tony had called her as soon as Bucky left the next day, already packing up his clothes and personal items. “No way they don’t have a tracker on his phone.”

“I’d been here too long anyway,” Tony said, shrugging even though she couldn’t see him. “I already have a sublet coming in next week, some kid coming into town for an internship. Hashtag sorry not sorry.”

“I’m going to kill Clint for teaching you that.”

“YOLO,” Tony said, and hung up laughing as Natasha started cursing. He’d gotten to sleep next to Bucky for the first time in years, woke up next to him, shared bagels and coffee before Bucky’d had to run out the door, so his good mood was bulletproof. He’d slept like shit because every time he woke up he tried his best not to fall back asleep, not wanting to miss a second of having Bucky in his bed, even though he’d stayed on his side instead of wrapping himself around Bucky like he’d wanted to. He’d never take that for granted again, even if Bucky was still as much of a bed and pillow hog now as he’d ever been.

 _Have a good day at work,_ Tony texted Bucky as he closed the door to the studio apartment forever. _Can’t wait to see you again. <3_

* * *

Two days after spending the night with Anton, Bucky was close to dozing off on the couch when there was a loud, demanding knock on his door. With a frown, Bucky levered himself off the couch, earning an angry _mrrrp_ from Alpine as he disturbed her from her perch, and opened the door to see Rumlow standing there, all kitted out in his tac gear. “Where’s your phone?” he said instead of hello.

“My phone?” Bucky glanced back at the coffee table where his phone was charging. “Right there, why?”

“We got an urgent tipoff on IRON KNIGHT. We think he has someone watching us or a tap on our comms, so everyone is going dark as of right now. Get your gear,” Rumlow ordered, shoving his way inside.

“How long are we going to be gone? I need to have someone take care of my cat,” Bucky said as he stepped back and headed for his bedroom where his duffle bag was waiting in the closet, always ready for something like this.

“Give it a bucket of food, it will survive,” Rumlow said impatiently. When Bucky stopped moving and just stared at him, Rumlow rolled his eyes. “We shouldn’t be gone more than twelve hours. Can your precious snookums survive that long without you?”

“Why are you such a fucking asshole, Rumlow?” Bucky muttered. He tossed his duffel bag towards the door and refilled Alpines food and water and turned off everything before pulling on his shoes. “I’m ready, let’s go.” He felt bad that he couldn’t tell Anton that he wasn’t going to be able to answer his phone for a while, but if it was just for one day it shouldn’t be a big deal.

When he was ready, he got into Rumlow’s SUV and they picked up Hutchinson and Jimenez before heading to an airfield outside the city. “Can you tell us where we’re going?” Bucky asked as they boarded the quinjet, buckling in as Rollins fired up the engine.

“Our intel says that IRON KNIGHT should be targeting a SHIELD facility in Clarksville, Arkansas,” Rumlow answered. “We should be getting there right as he arrives, if not before. Try not to fuck it up this time, Barnes,” he added, and Bucky made a face and stared down at his boots.

There was no sign of IRON KNIGHT when they got to the facility, a four-story regional detainee processing center and office building. The parking lot was empty, but many of the lights were on inside the building. It was always weird to Bucky to be wearing his full STRIKE team tactical gear and holding his rifle at the ready as he cleared rooms full of the same kind of cubicles that he worked in, rooms silent except for the sound of the air conditioning and the team’s periodic all-clears.

“I’m going down one level,” Bucky said as he cleared the bathrooms on the first floor, and got a confirmation from Rumlow who was right behind him. Bucky was concentrating so hard on keeping an eye out for the barely visible shimmer in the air that would indicate the presence of IRON KNIGHT that he didn’t even realize that Rumlow wasn’t behind him until he felt and heard a thump shake the building.

“Shit!” As he started running for the nearest exit, feeling the building rumble menacingly through his boots, he pressed the button on his comms and shouted, “Everybody out! The place is coming down!”

“Roger that,” he heard someone say. There were a couple of sound-offs from the guys that had been patrolling the perimeter, and then Rumlow said, “Who is still inside?”

“I am,” Bucky said, racing to the closest stairwell, praying that it was still clear. There was another thump and rumble; a second set of explosives had been detonated. He hit the door to the stairs and it didn’t move; he wasted a few precious seconds shoving at it to make sure it wasn’t just jammed, but it didn’t budge.

“Anyone else?” Rumlow asked. Bucky turned and sprinted down the hall to the next nearest stairwell. 

“No, boss, we’re clear,” Rollins answered.

“I’m still inside!” Bucky shouted. He tapped the comms button again to make sure it was still working. “Hello? I’m still in the sublevel!”

“You sure are,” Rumlow agreed. “Guess someone better go rescue you before the building crushes you.”

Bucky’s steps faltered in confusion. “What? What the hell are you talking about? Rumlow!” But there was no answer. “Rollins? Hutchinson? Are you all going to just leave me here to die?” There was still only silence, but he knew the comms were still live, so they were just listening. Listening to him panic as the building fell down around him. “Fuck all of you,” he growled, rage burning hot in his chest, and ripped the comms from his ear and crushed it. The rumbles were getting closer, close enough that Bucky knew that his best option now would be to try to survive the collapse and dig his way out. He sprinted past a bay of elevators and skidded to a stop before going back. One by one he pried each of the doors open to the elevator shafts and almost cried with relief when he found an actual elevator. There was dust in the air now, thick and choking, and cracks were appearing in the walls as Bucky got inside and closed the elevator doors behind him, hoping the metal box would be enough to protect him. The elevator started vibrating as the rumbling got closer, rattling Bucky’s teeth, then there was a ringing _snap_ from above him as the elevator cable snapped. The elevator lights dimmed and went out, then the emergency lights flickered on. Bucky braced himself as the elevator bucked, flinching every time he heard something impact the sides and dent the sturdy metal. There was a second of silence where he thought for a brief moment that it was over, but another explosion, this one close enough to make Bucky’s ears ring, sent the elevator tumbling backwards. Bucky made the mistake of trying to catch himself and cried out as something popped in his shoulder. After that, he just curled up in a tight ball and protected his head as the impact of debris made the elevator shudder and rock.

After what felt like an eternity, everything finally went quiet. Bucky slowly uncurled, trying not to move suddenly in case the elevator was precariously balanced, and took stock of his situation. The elevator was more or less upright, if leaning, and thankfully the lights were still on. His arm was fucked, though; probably dislocated, judging from the way it was hanging, and radiating a hot, achy pain that sharpened anytime he jostled it. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Bucky drew his knife and wedged it into the crack of the doors, turning it to try to get enough space to get his metal fingers inside. He braced his feet and pulled, grunting at the effort. The doors were too banged up to glide smoothly, and one side had such a big dent in it that it wouldn’t open more than halfway. But he finally got it open enough that he could theoretically get out. The wall of rubble that greeted him when the doors opened, however, was dismaying.

“Fuck,” he said, imagining how much of this shit was between him and daylight. But then he remembered his team leaving him here on purpose, and he found himself growling deep in his chest. There was no goddamn way he was going to die without having the pleasure of wrapping his hands around Rumlow’s neck and strangling the life out of him. So he took off his belt, used it to stabilize his dislocated shoulder, then got to work digging.

The biggest problem, he quickly discovered, was trying to find a place to put the debris as he moved it out of his way. First he filled up the elevator, then as he found pockets of empty space he filled those up too, trying to make sure he was heading upwards and towards what he remembered being an outside wall. Bucky was shoving against a huge slab of concrete, trying to get it to shift, when it moved suddenly and sent him off balance.

“Bucky?”

Bucky blinked at the figure in front of him. For a long moment he thought that he was hallucinating, because it looked almost like a ghost, man shaped but without any facial features, only visible because of the streaky layer of dust that had settled on top of it. Then it flickered, and underneath a red and gold suit of armor appeared. That’s when Bucky finally recognized it as objective KNIGHT and even as his brain went _fuck fuck fuck_ his metal arm had drawn his pistol and was firing at it as he backed away.

But the bullets didn’t do a goddamn thing, just pinging off the armor harmlessly. “Bucky, stop!” a vaguely familiar voice said, sounding metallic and tinny, holding up its hands. But the bright circles on the palms of the gauntlets sent alarm bells ringing in Bucky’s head, and he ducked and spun away, looking for cover. But the sudden movement dislodged some of the rubble in a small avalanche, catching Bucky off guard and sending him tumbling and sliding. He had just enough time to belatedly wonder why the objective knew his name before his head struck something and everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

[ ](https://saganarojanaolt.tumblr.com/post/645216040026013696/winteriron-reverse-bang-objective-iron-knight)


	6. Chapter 6

“Bucky! Bucky, wake up!”

Bucky didn’t want to wake up, but the urgency in the words made him try. He struggled to open his eyes, feeling like they were weighted. He got them open just enough to see the familiar face in front of him, framed in a red and gold helmet. “Tony?” he mumbled. “What…”

“Yes! It’s me, Tony,” the man said with relief, looking like he wanted to cry. “Bucky, are you ok?”

 _That’s a stupid question,_ Bucky wanted to say, but the darkness came up and swallowed him again before he could get the words out.

* * *

The next time Bucky opened his eyes, he didn’t recognize the ceiling above him. He paused for a moment, wondering if this was just that thing that happened sometimes where you wake up and don’t know where you are, but when he turned his head he verified that yes, this was not his own bedroom. As he sat up, the memories started coming back, and he froze.

“Bucky? Is that you?” To Bucky’s surprise, Anton appeared at the doorway.

“Anton? What the hell is going on?”

Anton studied him for a moment then sagged against the doorway. “You don’t remember,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“Remember? Remember what? The last thing I remember is…” Bucky frowned. Looking down, he realized he was still in his tactical gear, but his arm had clearly been set while he was sleeping, because it was working fine with no pain. His clothes were still dusty from digging through rubble, but the dust was smeared, like it had been wiped with a wet rag. His face and hands were clean but his hair was a disaster. So he had gotten out of the collapsed building, but the last person he remembered seeing was-

He stood up sharply. “You’re objective IRON KNIGHT,” he said accusingly, heart splintering in his chest with a physical pain as he realized that Anton had been lying to him this entire time. “Aren’t you? You’re the man in the suit we’ve been chasing for months now. You goddamn lying son of a bitch." His hands curled into fists and he could barely keep himself from punching the wall. "Ever since the first time we met. You fucking _bastard._ Was it for intel? Is that what you wanted? Were you stringing me along so I would _spy_ for you-"

"Bucky, just stop! It's not like that." Anton looked away, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Let me explain. I _am_ Iron Knight," he said, backing away and raising his hands when Bucky took a threatening step forward. "But before you do anything, let me remind you that I’m the one who rescued you when your team left you there to die. Okay? So I think I deserve a minute before you try to arrest me.”

That was true. Bucky’s eyes narrowed and he considered his options. He knew that he was unarmed, but he also knew that it was unlikely that Anton could get into that suit of his before Bucky killed him. And perhaps he did owe Anton a chance to explain himself, given that he really had saved Bucky’s life - or at least saved Bucky untold hours of digging himself out of a collapsed building one-handed. “Fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. "Talk. Quickly."

“Would you like to shower or eat first?” Anton offered, and Bucky gave him a skeptical look.

“You want me to get naked and let you drug me? How stupid do you think I am?”

Anton gave him an unimpressed look in return. “You’ve been unconscious in my bed for four hours now. What do you think I’m going to do to you naked that I couldn’t have done then?”

Bucky didn’t like that he had a good point. “Just say what you are going to say already,” he said curtly. "We'll see if I even trust anything you have to say, since I already know what a good liar you are."

“Fine, have it your way. But first I have a question. You woke up once, a little earlier when I was setting your shoulder. Do you remember? You said something to me.”

“Yeah, of course I remember. I called you…” Bucky hesitated, frowning. “I called you Tony?”

“Yes. Do you know why?” Anton was watching him carefully, like this was vitally important for some reason.

“Because…” Bucky struggled to formulate the thought. There was something big in his head, something he was trying to remember that felt like it was pushing everything else out of its way as it came up from his subconscious. “Because it’s a nickname for Anton,” Bucky said finally, though he knew that was wrong even as he said it.

“You’ve never called me that before,” Anton/Tony pointed out. “Are you sure?”

Bucky pressed his palms to his eyes as he tried to think. He’d recognized the suit when it appeared in front of him, but not from the artist mockups that had been in the SHIELD briefing; he knew that suit, knew it like his own tactical armor. He’d known that the blue circles in the palms were dangerous and when he was half-conscious he knew that it was Tony and not Anton because…

Because…

He staggered backwards, sitting down heavily on the bed as the memories came back so hard and fast that it hurt, pressure building in his head like a migraine. Images of Tony, of Steve and Natasha - peoples whose names Bucky hadn’t even remembered minutes ago - flashed behind his eyes, and it felt like a flood as those years that Bucky hadn’t remembered came rushing back, leaving him gasping.

 _I know you_ I go by Natasha now and there is someone who would really like to see you _I'm here to bring you_ _home, Buck_ Buck, this is Howard’s kid, Tony _Terminator if you call me Mr. Stark one more time I won’t be responsible for my actions, so help me God_ Pick a room, Bucky, mi casa es su casa _Of course there’s no hard feelings, I’m not a monster_ I don’t know if I’m worth all this _don’t be ridiculous, we’re your family now_ JARVIS play us some tunes _fucking aliens, Bucky, can you believe it_ Jesus Christ, Tony, I thought I’d lost you, don't ever do something like that again _you can’t get rid of me that easily_ You've got some impressive moves for an old man _you ain't seen nothing yet, Tony_ So are we like, dating now or what _Of course we are, you idiot, I don't take you to dinner and bring you flowers just because we're banging_ Buck, Hydra is back, it's been growing inside SHIELD for decades _We have to stop them_ Bucky! Bucky, I can’t find you! Goddammit, answer me, Bucky! _Tony the helicarrier is going down but I'm not done yet, I have to finish this_ **BUCKY NO DON'T-  
**

He jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. He met Tony’s eyes, which were filled with a wary hope, and felt his chest tighten, throat closing as tears pressed hot against his eyes. “Your name is Anthony, not Anton,” he managed, voice thick. “and we were in love. Christ, Tony, I'm so sorry. _Fuck._ ”

" _Bucky._ " Tony's voice cracked and he collapsed onto the bed next to him as if his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. He buried his head in his hands and curled over his knees, breaths coming wet and ragged.

Bucky dropped to his knees in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders, in his hair, on his back, anywhere he could reach, wanting to pull him into his arms and never let go. He held him while Tony's shoulders shook with sobs, pressing his forehead against Tony's temple and murmuring “Tony, please, baby, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Christ, how could I forget you? I love you so much-" then he almost fell backward as Tony surged forward, pressing his mouth to Bucky’s, hands cradling his face. The kiss tasted of tears and dust and rage and regret but Bucky wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

"You didn't forget," Tony said fiercely when he pulled back. "It wasn't your fault, they _made_ you forget."

Bucky dried the wet tracks on Tony’s cheeks with his thumbs and said, “Tell me what happened.”

* * *

Tony convinced Bucky to take a shower and change into clean clothes before he started explaining. “I didn’t know what happened for a while,” Tony started, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug. They were sitting at a tiny kitchen table, knees touching, and Bucky was forcing himself to eat, not so much because he was hungry and more because he needed to be doing something while he listened to Tony’s story. “The part they told you about the helicarriers is true, you did go down on the final helicarrier trying to get the targeting system disabled. But even though we were able to take them down, Natasha’s part of the plan – to do a data dump of all of SHIELD’s secret files so that Hydra couldn’t hide anymore – failed. Secretary Pierce was less interested in gloating than she had calculated, and she and Fury weren’t able to get access to the computer systems. When the helicarriers started to come down, they had to flee instead.”

“Shit.” Bucky remembered the plan now. He, Tony, and Steve were supposed to take down the helicarriers, one each, and Natasha and Fury were supposed to infiltrate SHIELD’s files, with Clint and Bruce standing by for backup. “But without the files…”

“Yeah. It was our word against SHIELD’s for why we took down the helicarriers, and we lost. Pierce and the rest of Hydra managed to convince people that the Avengers took down the helicarriers because, and I am quoting Senator Stern here, ‘we didn’t want to share the glory.’” Tony saw the look of disgust on Bucky’s face and nodded. “Yeah, I know. But they put out a warrant against all of us and seized Stark Industries, kicked Rhodey out of the Air Force with a dishonorable discharge and tried to take the War Machine suit as well. It was like the Battle of New York had never even happened, we went from national heroes to public enemy number one almost overnight. So we ran.” Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring down at his coffee. “The worst part is that I had no idea what happened to you. Our comms went out when you hit the water, and I tried looking for you, but…there was nothing. I petitioned SHIELD almost hourly for an update as they started clearing the Potomac, trying to find you. I went out with the search parties every day until the warrant came out. I, um…” Tony’s voice failed him, and he pressed his fingers to his eyes as he tried to collect himself, his breathing ragged and uneven. “I thought you were dead,” he finally managed. Bucky reached over and put his hand on Tony’s arm and squeezed reassuringly, and one of Tony’s hands came over to rest on top of it. “So we all went into damage control mode. Bruce is in hiding, Thor went back to Asgard, and Clint, Natasha, and I all started working on how to fight back.”

“And Steve?”

“Steve refused to run when the warrants were issued.” Tony smiled faintly as Bucky cursed up a blue streak. “He said once you start running-”

“You never stop,” Bucky finished. “Goddammit, Steve.”

“So he got arrested. And we haven’t seen him since.”

Bucky sat back in his chair. “That’s what you’ve been looking for. You’ve been looking for Steve.”

“Yeah. None of us, including Steve, thought they could make Captain America just…disappear, without someone protesting. And there were protests, don’t get me wrong. They filled the streets all over the country, the world even, but then the protests got declared a national emergency, and the army was sent in to put them down, and people were getting hurt. Killed. So we told them to stop.” Tony fidgeted with his mug. “So about eight months later I was surveilling SHIELD headquarters, trying to see if there was a way I could get inside while it was being rebuilt to hack into their networks. Imagine my surprise when I saw you walk in one day like it was just another day at work.”

“Christ.” Bucky stood up and put his food away, appetite completely gone. He could just imagine how that must have felt, for Tony to see him like that after thinking he was dead for weeks, maybe even months. He braced himself against the sink and hung his head, feeling queasy at the thought of how much Tony must have been hurting. 

“I thought a lot of things, at first," Tony continued. "I thought I was crazy, so I took a photo to make sure it wasn’t just, you know, wishful thinking, like it was someone that looked a lot like you and my brain was filling in the rest. Then I thought it was a trick, that they knew I was watching and had someone pretending to be you as bait. But bait is meant to be noticed, and you didn’t really do anything except go to work and go home. Go to _our_ home, where we lived when we were down here in DC. Which was a lot, once Steve decided to work for SHIELD.”

“ _Our_ home?” Bucky repeated. “You mean…”

“Yeah.” The corner of Tony’s mouth curled up in a small smile. “I was wondering if anyone thought it was odd that you could afford a two-bedroom top floor luxury condo in Georgetown on a government employee’s salary, but I guess not. I imagine they scrubbed it clean of any sign of me before they let you go back into it.”

“I don’t understand, why would they even risk…” Bucky started, but then trailed off as he answered his own question. “It _was_ bait. They were using me as bait.”

“Yeah.”

“When the building was coming down, Rumlow said, ‘Guess someone better go rescue you before the building crushes you,’” Bucky said slowly. “He was talking to you, wasn’t he? You were supposed to die in there with me.”

“Die, get trapped, or be so distracted trying to save you that they could take me down,” Tony said with a nod. “It almost worked.”

“Almost?”

“Yeah. But I had made some upgrades they didn’t know about and I was also _really_ _angry_.”

Bucky smiled and had to kiss Tony’s smug look of satisfaction. “You didn’t kill Rumlow, did you?” he asked. “Because I am really hoping to do that myself.”

“No, they did a ‘tactical retreat,’” Tony said with air quotes, “once I started kicking their asses. So I was able to get you out and get back here without them following.”

Bucky made an absent noise, eyebrows drawing together as a thought occurred to him. “I didn’t forget because I had brain damage, did I? They did something. Like a chair.”

“We think so,” Tony said with a nod. "Or drugs. All the medicine in your medicine cabinet that was given to you by SHIELD doctors are psychotropics, we are still analyzing them now."

“Son of a bitch." Bucky's eyes narrowed. "And you think they might be trying to do the same to Steve.”

Tony let out a long breath at that. “Yeah. But it’s been years and we haven’t seen any sign of him. Not out in the field, not in a showy public trial, nothing.”

Bucky chewed on his lip, thinking. “So maybe it’s not working?” At that, Tony just shrugged. “So what’s our next step?”

“That,” Tony said slowly, “is a good goddamn question.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky exhaled silently with relief when the security turnstile accepted his passcode and the light turned green when he swiped his badge. He nodded his head toward the security guard, who gave him a polite smile in return. “I’m in,” Bucky said as soon as he was far enough away from the guard. “Arrogant fucks didn’t even yank my building access, guess they really thought they’d killed me.”

“Two years of thinking they’d outsmarted us must have gone to their heads,” Tony said in his ear. “No movement from Rumlow or Rollins so far.”

“Am I wrong for hoping they’re keeping tabs on me?” Bucky asked, jogging down a flight of stairs to the sublevel where the STRIKE team lockers were. He was well practiced in gearing up quickly, fastening his ballistic vest and holsters over his jeans and Henley. Getting to the weapons locker was a matter of a quick yank and the scream of distressed metal as he ripped the door of its hinges, quickly grabbing pistols and rifles and magazines of ammo. “If they don't show up I’m going to be disappointed if I don’t get to punch someone. Someones. A lot.”

“It would be anticlimactic, for sure,” Tony agreed. “As many times as we’ve tried to infiltrate SHIELD’s network, for you just to walk in and do it without a fight would be freaking ridiculous.”

“I always knew you guys were helpless without me.” Bucky jogged through the halls, trying to remember where the server room was. It was right next to the place where you go to change your computer password – ah, there it was. There was extra security on this door, since it led to the racks and racks of servers that contained SHIELD’s entire classified network, but Bucky just punched through the keypad, destroying the locking mechanism, and yanked it open, mangling the door handle in the process. An alarm was probably going off somewhere, but that was low on the list of Bucky’s problems right now.

“Rumlow and Rollins are on the move,” Tony said. “ETA is probably only 15 minutes.”

“I’m sure. So I just put this thumb drive in any of these things?” Bucky asked, staring down the rows and rows of humming boxes with blinking lights behind metal cages. It was freezing in here, and the lights were doing that creepy thing where they only turned on as he moved, leaving parts of the giant room in shadow.

“There’s probably a computer somewhere that has direct network access, that will be a lot faster.” Bucky moved quickly, not wanting to get into a fight with Rumlow and the others here in the server room while Tony was doing his thing, and found a laptop mounted to a rack in the middle of the room. “Found it.” He tapped the space bar to wake it up and plugged the thumb drive in the USB port. “That’s it? I don’t need to log on?”

“No, you wouldn’t have access,” Tony said. “I can see its plugged in, software is uploading. You can get out of there.”

Bucky went for the nearest stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time until he was back on the main floor. “Where are Rumlow and Rollins now? Coming in the front or around the back?”

“What?” Tony sounded distracted. “Shit, I’m sorry. They are, uh, doing all of the above. Looks like they split up.”

“How many?”

“Three squads of five…no six.”

“Only eighteen people? They must be feeling optimistic.” Bucky had on numerous occasions, when he was waiting in line to badge in or had taken a few minutes in the SHIELD lobby to drink his coffee before making his way to his desk or down to the STRIKE locker rooms, imagined how he would plan an assault on the building and also defend against an assault on the building. What he was doing now was of course easier than both of those, but it still meant that he knew exactly where to take up a position while he waited for the STRIKE teams. He pulled his .50 caliber sniper rifle off his shoulder and unfolded the tripod. Seconds later the building went dark, leaving only the exit lights and a small strip of emergency lights burning.

“Lights went out,” Bucky reported. “They think they are being slick.” Which is funny, because the SHIELD atrium was almost completely made of glass and this close to DC it never really got dark, even on moonless nights. Tonight, with medium cloud cover reflecting the orange glow of streetlights and businesses on both sides of the Potomac, Bucky could easily make out the STRIKE team members as they filed in through the door and took up positions all around the lobby. One of them hid behind the giant metal statue in the shape of the eagle on the SHIELD seal, a move so rife with symbolism that Bucky couldn’t resist shooting him through the statue to complete the metaphor. The agent’s body had barely hit the floor, echoes from the rifle blast still bouncing around the atrium, before Bucky had taken out one guy that had ducked down behind a concrete planter. The concrete shattered, plants and dirt flying everywhere, and the man sprawled out on the fancy granite floor. He was still twitching, though, so Bucky shot him again just to make sure everyone knew what the stakes were.

Bucky scanned the room with his rifle, waiting for someone to break cover, as the echoes died away and the building got silent again. He had one squad pinned down here and down two men, but there were a dozen other guys closing in on his position so he couldn’t really afford to play the waiting game. So he pulled a flashbang from his belt and tossed it over the railing where he was positioned down to the ground floor, and as it went off and billowed smoke he picked up his rifle and ran to his next position. From here, he had less of a view of the guys in the lobby but an _excellent_ view of the second team as they made their way up the stairs to his previous position.

“Three down, fifteen to go,” he said to Tony as he took out the first guy up the stairs, getting him right through the vest so that he went careening down the stairs onto the rest of his team.

“Need any backup?”

“No way. I want to do this myself.” Bucky smirked. No one else was trying to come up the stairs. He knew the calculations going through their minds right now; the third squad was probably being redirected to come up behind Bucky’s position to get the drop on him. Perhaps literally; given the way this area of the building was designed, agents could fast rope down from higher levels to ambush him. He almost wished he could hear what the strike team was saying to each other right now; it seemed pretty clear that they thought they would be surprising Bucky, not the other way around.

There was the roar of rifle fire and then dust and concrete chips were raining down on Bucky as holes were chewed in the ceiling above him. Bucky swung his rifle down and tsked when he saw that an agent had ducked behind one of the concrete pillars holding up the second story corridor. “Good, but not good enough,” he said, and fired three rounds in quick succession, all at the same spot: the first two ripped a hole through the concrete, pinging off the rebar inside, and the third killed the agent that had been hiding behind it. The guys, of all people, should know the damage a .50 cal could do, especially at this range.

“Rumlow!” Bucky shouted when it got quiet again. “You’re already down four guys and I’m not even trying. I’ll make you a deal.” There was a long pause, long enough that Bucky worried that maybe Rumlow wasn’t even there to hear him. He hoped he hadn’t already been shot.

“What kind of deal?” Rumlow finally shouted back.

“You give yourself up and let me kill you slowly, and everyone else gets to live.” Now Bucky _really_ wished he could hear what they were saying to each other. “Actually, no. Just let me drop a building on _you_ and we’ll call it even.”

“Whatever you are looking for here, you’re not going to find it,” Rumlow said. By that, Bucky figured he meant Steve. Obviously they weren’t holding Steve here, how dumb did they think he was? On the other hand, Bucky reflected, they had pretty much had the upper hand for years now. Maybe they had just gotten overconfident. “Give up quietly and we will let your friends live,” Rumlow continued, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Strangely enough, I don’t believe you.” Bucky fired a few shots at where Rumlow’s voice was coming from, but the angle was too bad for him to do any damage. He could hear feet shuffling from somewhere above him, so he abandoned his sniper rifle and pulled out a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other, waiting for them to rappel down from above.

They ended up coming from two directions at once, which was pretty clever. Bucky grabbed the rifle of the man who had burst through the stairwell door next to him, crushing it with his metal hand as he picked him up by his body armor and threw him at the three agents that had just rappelled down from the upper floors. The impact sent them spinning on their ropes and the agent himself thudded against the granite floor below. Another agent came up from the stairs while those three tried to right themselves; Bucky blocked his bullets with his metal hand, knocked his rifle away, and stabbed him in the throat. He threw this guy at the agents too, since they had just righted themselves enough to go for their rifles, then shot them each of them in the thigh to give them something else to worry about. As they hung there, screaming as they tried to put pressure on the wounds while still being tied to ropes, Bucky helped by shooting through the ropes.

The screaming got quieter as they hit the floor, adding to the pile of bodies there. Bucky looked down and counted in his head. “Halfway there,” he said to Tony. He holstered his pistol and wiped his knife off on his pants then staggered went something hit his shoulder with a bark of gunfire. “Ow, fuck.” He pressed a hand to his shoulder and kicked the door to the stairwell off its hinges to take cover inside from the sniper fire.

“Are you ok?” Tony asked in his ear, alarmed.

“Fine,” Bucky said, trying to sound fine as his shoulder blazed with pain. Gritting his teeth, he moved his arm; the bullet hadn’t hit the joint, luckily, and whatever damage it had done hadn’t significantly impacted his mobility. Still hurt like hell though. “Sniper got the drop on me.” Then he flinched back as an agent at the bottom of the stairs fired up at him. With a growl Bucky vaulted over the railing and landed on top of him, driving him into the floor. Bucky palmed the man’s helmet and slammed it into the floor until he went limp.

Standing, he peered out the door to the ground level. Somewhere out there were eight more STRIKE agents, trying to regroup and come up with a new strategy. It was a game of murder hide and seek, something Bucky excelled at. “Do you still have eyes on these guys?” Bucky asked Tony.

“Yeah but it looks like they shot out one of my drones,” Tony said crossly. “I am counting five around the lobby.”

Bucky did some math in his head. If the entire third squad had gone to an upper floor, and only three had rappelled down, then there were still three more up there, probably providing cover for the ones in the atrium. Bucky smiled, more baring his teeth than an actual grin, and went back up the stairs. STRIKE’s playbook would have them spread out across the upper floors, which means that it was nice and easy to sneak up on them while they had their eyes on the ground floor. He broke the first agent’s neck, barely catching his rifle before it went over the side railing. Lowering them both to the floor, Bucky stalked the next two, feet silent on the industrial carpeting that lined these corridors. He threw the last body over the railing, hearing it crash into the canopy of a coffee cart that sat in one corner of the atrium. “Still there, Rumlow?” Bucky asked cheerfully. “How about you, Rollins? Man, I can’t wait to kill you guys. I just hope I can take my time.”

“They’re probably low key shitting themselves right now,” Tony said in his ear. “They’ve tried to call for help five times already. Guess they finally figured out I’m blocking their comms.”

“They’re not running, are they? Because that would be disappointing.”

“Looks like they’ve formed up and are heading downstairs.”

Bucky frowned for a moment before he realized they were heading for the STRIKE weapons locker. “Cheeky bastards,” he said and went after them. He caught up with them halfway down the stairs, push kicking the guy in the rear so that he knocked everyone else off balance. “You guys were in such a hurry to get here and now you’re trying to leave already,” he said, pulling out his pistol and shooting two of them in the neck. This close, he could tell which one was Rumlow and which one was Rollins just from their obnoxious cologne. The guy he knocked down was scrambling to get back to his feet, so Bucky grabbed him by the back of his body armor and tossed him one-handed down the next flight of stairs where he hit the wall with an unhealthy thump.

"Now it's just us," he said to Rumlow and Rollins. "Tell me, whose bright idea was it to wipe my mind instead of killing me after you found my body in the Potomac?" They had their rifles up and pointed at him, while Bucky's hands were loose and by his sides, but they all knew who was really in danger here.

"Who do you think?" Rumlow said. "Not mine. I wanted to put you down like a mad dog."

"I thought it was pretty funny myself," Rollins said, and with a snarl Bucky knocked his rifle away and punched him in the face.

"You are such an asshole," Bucky said, and punched him again when he tried to stand back up. "You are a terrible," _punch_ "idiotic," _punch_ "worthless excuse for a human, even for Hydra." This time, Rollins didn't get back up again, and Bucky turned to see that Rumlow was making a break for it.

"Oh no you don't," Bucky said, chasing him down and throwing him against the wall, pinning him there with a hand on his throat. "You're the one I'm most excited about killing. You know, it was real ballsy of you to have me walking around with a gun,” Bucky said. “Working for SHIELD – for _Hydra_ – like a regular employee. But unfortunately for you, looks like it backfired pretty spectacularly.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But we still hold all the cards,” Rumlow said. “Stark’s company was sold for scraps and his assets were seized. Rogers is ours. All of you are wanted for war crimes in 197 countries. We’ve even got a hit out on you, $2 million a head. And they’ve gotten close more than once, you should ask Stark about his shiny new scars."

"You think that is going to stop us?" Bucky growled.

"Do you think that _this_ is going to stop _us?_ " Rumlow said. He kicked out and got Bucky on the inside of his knee, the punched him in the face and twisted out of his grip, bringing his rifle up as he started backing down the hallway. "You know, it’s just too bad you remembered before we got you to kill him,” Rumlow rasped with a laugh. “I could have sold tickets to that show.” Then he started shooting, gunshots echoing deafeningly in the hallway.

Bucky saw red. As he roared and lunged for Rumlow, some of the shots hit his body armor, feeling like getting punched in the chest. He blocked some with his arm, but he barely noticed the flash of pain as other connected. He ripped Rumlow's rifle out of his hand and tossed it aside, then blocked the knife Rumlow tried to bury in his stomach. He fisted his fingers in Rumlow’s bulletproof vest, feeling the sappy plates inside crack under his hand, and slammed Rumlow against the cement block wall. He did it again and again and again, imagining Tony at the end of his rifle, his suit falling from the sky and hitting the ground, or handcuffed and strapped to the chair. He would _never,_ he _wouldn't_ have, he would have remembered first-

Eventually he realized Tony was saying something in his ear and the red haze lifted. “Bucky, it’s ok,” Tony was saying soothingly. “That didn’t happen. It’s not going to happen. I’m fine, ok? You can stop.”

Bucky opened his hands and Rumlow slid to the floor, leaving a smear of blood on the wall. He turned on his heel and started making his way to the exit, suddenly needing to see Tony and hold him in his arms. “Is it true? What he was saying?” he said roughly, shedding his body armor and weapons and leaving them on the floor as he bounded up the stairs. He went for a fire exit, ignoring the blaring of the alarm as he made his way outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

“Sort of,” Tony hedged in a way that Bucky didn’t like at all. “Stark Industries and my assets are currently tied up in litigation, so if we can clear my name I’ll have everything back. The war crimes part is true, that’s why Thor had to leave the planet, he was too noticeable.”

“And the hitman? The scar?”

“I’m fine now,” Tony said after a moment, and Bucky closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, reminding himself that there was nothing he could do about it now.

“We’re going to talk about that later,” Bucky promised, climbing onto his motorcycle. “Did you get what you needed?”

“All of that and more,” Tony said with satisfaction. “And I know exactly where Steve is. Come on home, we’re getting the band back together.”


	8. Chapter 8

"Well, that was dramatic," Tony said, using Bucky's shoulder to lower himself to sit on the grassy hill next to him.

"Aren't they always?" Bucky had picked a viewpoint where he could watch the Hulk systematically dismantle the top secret detainment facility where they were holding Steve along with a few dozen other high value targets. The scene was chaotic, as medical personnel, news reporters, and law enforcement officers from a few dozen agencies crowded the scene. No one was getting near Steve, though, who was being guarded by Thor, who was tossing his hammer from hand to hand and eyeballing anyone who got too close. Steve himself was telling his story - what he remembered of it - to Natasha while they waited for the other quinjets to arrive to take everyone home.

"I'm glad Steve's okay," Tony said, following Bucky's gaze.

"Yeah. Kind of funny that Hydra found out the hard way that Steve's default setting is a skeptical, stubborn bastard."

Tony barked out a laugh. "True." He picked a dandelion puff out of the grass and blew on it, watching the tiny seeds float away. "I heard from Pepper. Government lawyers are dropping all their lawsuits against Stark Industries, so we might be able to go back to the tower soon."

"That would be great. I want to get you in bed and not leave for a week."

"Deal." Tony picked another dandelion puff and they sat in silence for a few minutes. "Guess I should help?" Tony said eventually, making no move to get up.

"No, you've done enough for a bit," Bucky said, putting his hand on top of Tony's where it was resting on his thigh. "Will you show me your scar? From the..." Bucky didn't really want to say the words, but Tony understood. His eyes softened and he unzipped his flight suit enough to pull it down and show Bucky a round knot of scar tissue right under his collarbone on the left side. "Christ," Bucky said softly, and measured with his fingers - less than a few inches more towards the center and Tony would have been dead. Bucky felt a lump in his throat and he put one arm around Tony's back and one under his legs, standing and picking him up at the same time.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked as Bucky started carrying him towards the quinjet.

"We're going back to the safe house now," Bucky said with determination. "I'm done waiting for when it's our time. We did the rescue, we got the information on Hydra - now I just want to make up for lost time."

"But we can't leave everyone," Tony protested.

"Other quinjets are coming. They'll be fine."

"But what about Steve?"

That made Bucky hesitate. "Tony," he said pleadingly. He looked over his shoulder and saw Natasha looking at them. She quirked her mouth and nodded at them before turning back to Steve. "Natasha said its ok," Bucky said, and kept walking. "We'll catch up with Steve after the doctors have had their go."

Tony made a face like he was going to argue, but after a second he relaxed and rested his head against Bucky's shoulder. "You can put me down, though. I won't run away I promise."

"Tony, since the quinjet has autopilot, I'm not even letting you go to fly a plane," Bucky said. He walked up the ramp into the quinjet, shifted his grip on Tony to put the coordinates for the safehouse into the flight computer, then sat down and put Tony in his lap, wrapping his arms around him. As the quinjet rose into the air, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall of the plane, breathing in the smell of Tony’s shampoo and the faint metallic smell from being in the suit, feeling Tony’s breath gusting on his neck. As the silence stretched, he felt something in him relax, a knot that had been wound so tightly for so long that he didn’t even know it _could_ relax. It didn’t matter where they went, Bucky knew, whether it was to the DC condo or the tower in New York. He was already home.

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tony Stark Bingo:  
> Title: Objective Iron Knight  
> Author: Dracusfyre  
> Card Number: 4032  
> Square Filled: K5 "Forgotten Things  
> Ship/Main Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark  
> Rating: T  
> Major Tags: Established Relationship, Temporary Amnesia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence  
> Summary: While at a SHIELD holiday party, Bucky meets a mysterious but charming stranger. When he sees him again at a coffee shop a few weeks later, Bucky is excited by the chance to get to know him better without realizing that neither encounter was the accident that this Anton made them out to be...  
> Word Count: ~17,600


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